


Eggs and Shame

by Sekiraku



Series: Bed Rest [4]
Category: Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 12:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiraku/pseuds/Sekiraku
Summary: This takes place between Chapter 20 and Chapter 21, after Blue's been put to bed following his trip to the clinic. Blue has a nightmare and starts his day off wrong.





	Eggs and Shame

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weak Constitution: Common Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302013) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon). 

_“Oh, stars, Master, please, I’m so sorry, please Master please…”___

_ __ _

__

_I try to throw myself at Master’s feet, but his hands close hard around me, dragging me up as easily as if I were made of rags. He slings me effortlessly under one arm and marches for the door. His face has fallen into the familiar lines of anger and contempt, things I’ve seen on a hundred other faces but never his, not until now.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

_“We’re going to the doctor,” he spits, not even looking at me. “I’ve never seen such a worthless familiar. Time to put you down.”___

_ __ _

_ __ _

_“No, Master, please! I’ll be so good, I just want to serve you, please, I’ll do anything you want, please have mercy-”___

_ __ _

_ __ _

I hit the floor. Did Master drop me? But no, it’s dark now… and I’m next to the bed…. And anyway, didn’t we already go to the doctor? Yes, it was only a checkup…

Dreaming. My sleep-addled brain finally puts the pieces together. I inhale deeply and let myself slump onto the floor. The solidity of it feels good against my flushed skin and hammering heart. I’m safe, I assure myself. I’m in my Master’s favor, somehow, despite all my mistakes. I’m being fed and coddled so I’ll heal. Judging by the light showing faintly through the curtains, Master will be here any moment, and if my unbelievable luck holds, he’ll be bearing food and medicine and cheerful conversation. And I’m learning what pleases him, so hopefully I’ll be able to avoid making any more stupid fuckups when I’m allowed out of the bed-

Oh, no.

Here I lie, congratulating myself that I’m not going to be punished when every second I’m out of bed is disobedience. The panic that had begun to dissipate closes over my guts again. I flounder, grabbing at the sheets and using them to aid me as I scramble desperately to my feet. As soon as I’m up, the jolt of pain in my soles reminds me that I’m breaking yet another rule. I waver, sick with fear and pain, and for a moment I’m terrified I’ll fall. My mind helpfully supplies an image of myself crumpled on the floor as Master comes through the door, but I manage to steady myself and wriggle back under the blankets.

Stars. I’ve never had so few rules to follow, and I still broke two of them. What would have happened to me if I’d been so incompetent with my last master? With any of them?

I cringe away from the thought. I know what would have happened. If I’d broken as many rules and caused as much damage for any of my other masters, I’d have been lucky to be permitted to keep my feet at all. No matter how gentle my new Master is, I have to do better. His patience must have limits, and if I continue as I’ve begun, I’ll soon find myself blundering right past them.

I’ve barely rearranged the blankets over myself when the door opens with a soft creak. Master enters, balancing the breakfast tray between his free hand and hip. I freeze. My stomach roils with guilt and terror, but I do my best to keep my face neutral. Perhaps if he’s just come up from the kitchen, Master didn’t hear the thud of my body hitting the floor.

“Oh, hello, Blue!” He sounds so cheerful I’m tempted to relax, but my body stays tense under the sheets. It might be a trap.

Master sets the tray on the desk and crosses to the window, where he opens the curtains and lets the sunlight flood the room. I screw my face up, less as a reaction to the stinging light than as an attempt to wipe any traces of guilt or nervousness from my face.

“Good morning, Master,” I say, and I’m proud of how steady my voice sounds. My feet throb. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you!” I’m keeping my eyes carefully lowered, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “And how did you sleep, Blue?”

In truth, this morning’s nightmare was the last in a long parade. My eyelids feel heavy and I know I’ll be fighting to stay awake as the day wears on. However, that’s hardly an appropriate response to the privilege of sleeping in a bed. I bow my head deeper.

“I slept well, Master. Thank you very much.”

“What would you like us to do first, eat breakfast or apply your medicine?” Master asks, and I freeze.

“W-Whatever would please you, Master,” I reply. Master shakes his head.

“I don’t have any preference, Blue,” he says gently. “It would please me to hear what you want.”

He leans against the wall, clearly settling in to await my answer. I will not be permitted to dodge the question, so I have to figure out the correct answer before Master grows impatient. Lack of sleep and the fresh ache in my feet may leave me dull and slow, but I begin to work through the puzzle with panicked speed. 

My first instinct is to ask permission to service him before anything else. Usually, that was what I was supposed to request when previous masters asked me what I wanted to do. However, Master’s question was not open-ended, and it seems safest to restrict myself to the two options presented. I mustn’t cross the line from eagerness to impudence. 

On the one hand, Master wants me to heal quickly. Getting my body in working order is clearly his priority for me. On the other hand, the food Master prepared will get cold if it sits out while my feet are treated. Most importantly, Master himself chose to begin with breakfast yesterday. That must be the way he wants it.

“If- If it pleases you, Master, c-could-” Stars, I’m almost certain he’s going to let me eat breakfast, but I shouldn’t say ‘Could we eat breakfast?’ and make it sound like I’m expecting it. I think fast. “Could- could the medicine come after breakfast? Please?”

Master grins widely, and I sag in relief, though the throbbing in my soles reminds me not to get too comfortable. “Of course, Blue! Thank you for telling me what you want.”  


He starts towards the breakfast tray, then hesitates. 

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asks. 

I do. I hadn’t noticed through the pain in my feet and the panic in my gut, but now that he’s brought it up-

At my tentative nod, Master sweeps me into his arms. His shirt is a little damp, as though he pulled it on right after washing, but I’m finding it hard to enjoy his fresh, clean scent. Even though he’s not holding me the same way he was in my dream, I have to fight the urge to squirm away from him.

The thudding of my heart doesn’t ease until I’ve finished and Master has carried me back to bed. He returns to the desk and begins dishing up breakfast- sure enough, onto two plates. The pangs in my soles, though fading, remind me how little I deserve such lavish kindnesses.

Breakfast is eggs again, this time folded into pockets that hold meat, cheese, and herbs. I manage to eat about half of mine, and a full glass of juice. Master talks to me between bites, but I’m not enjoying his conversation the way I did yesterday. His face from my nightmare, twisted with fury and derision, is so clear in my mind that even as he smiles at me, it’s all I can do not to start cowering and pleading.

If Master notices my strange mood, he doesn’t comment on it. Once he’s cleared away our dishes, he kneels beside the bed with the jar of cream and asks (Why does he always ask?) for my feet.

I try to keep my breathing steady as he takes my foot in his hands. The throbbing has eased, so perhaps there will be no visible evidence of my disobedience.

This hope is dashed when Master examines my foot and his face falls. The terror of my nightmare rolls back over me, sloshing wretchedly through my gut.

“You’re a little inflamed,” Master murmurs, his forehead creasing. I drop my eyes just in time as he lifts his face to mine. It’s no use. “Blue, look at me, please,” he says, and I wrench my eyes up from the covers.

This is it. He’s going to ask what I did, and I can’t risk a lie while looking him in the eyes. He’d know, I’m just sure of it, so it’ll be better to just tell the truth and plead for mercy and hope that my guesses are correct and he doesn’t get too much pleasure from pain and-

“Does it hurt?” His voice is even, but his face is pinched with concern. I’m caught off guard by his deviation from my mental script, so it takes me a moment to respond.

“Y-yes, Master, a little bit,” I squeak, and he winces. He actually winces, his face tightening as if he were the one in pain.

I’ve given and received many sympathetic winces after punishments and particularly brutal takings. It was always a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. However, this comfort was exclusively exchanged among us slaves. It’s so bizarre to have a master making this face at me that despite my terror, I have to choke down a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, Blue,” Master says. I am freed from his gaze as he goes back to staring mournfully at my foot. “I must have messed up the magic again. I was being so careful… stars, where did I go wrong?”

My brain goes fuzzy with confusion for a moment, then my whole body relaxes. I’m safe. Somehow, despite all my failings, Master doesn’t suspect me of disobedience. 

“Wait here,” he says, and moves to the bookshelf. He pulls down a volume and opens it to a page marked with a bit of blue ribbon. He scans the page, frowning and muttering to himself. He looks a little desperate. 

“I don’t understand,” he almost moans. “I followed the directions… I guess I just need to be more careful. I’m so sorry, Blue. I promise I’ll be as careful as I can this time. Please, please tell me if I’m hurting you.”

He’s so genuinely distressed. Guilt pools in my stomach, but it feels different than it usually does. I’m safe from punishment, but I still feel terrible.

I should tell him what I did. A good familiar wouldn’t make their master suffer this guilt and self-doubt because of their mistake. A good familiar would tell the truth and accept the consequences.

I’m not a good familiar.

I can’t face his anger. Perhaps if I had told him as soon as he walked in, it would have been all right. But I’ve already concealed my carelessness and disobedience for too long. If I told him, he’d know that I’m sneaky and dishonest and I’ll avoid punishments any way I can. I don’t want to be beaten, but even more than that, I don’t want to disappoint my Master. He thinks so well of me, for reasons I can’t begin to fathom. He thinks I’m valuable. I know it’s only a matter of time before he figures out the truth, but… not today. 

I keep silent as Master weaves his spells over my feet, his face twisted in concentration, lavishing me with care and attention that I deserve less with every passing moment. That done, he applies the cream and binds me up again.

“Are you sure that’s alright?” he asks worriedly, for what must be the twentieth time.

Eggs and shame roil in my belly. I feel like I could vomit. But I remember the crop in his bag and smooth out my face.

“Yes, Master,” I whisper, hating myself.

“Okay. Tell me if it starts to hurt again.” Master sighs and gets to his feet. “Is there anything you need before I go clean up after breakfast?”

I hate that he’s doing chores that should fall to me. I hate how useless I am. I hate that I disobeyed him, after all he’s done for me. I hate that I’m too much of a coward to tell him the truth and stop him from blaming himself. It’s so unfair that the kindest, most generous master I’ve ever heard of should be saddled with the worst familiar in the world.

“Blue?” Master’s hands close over mine, just in time to stop me from scratching my wrist. I jolt in surprise, barely remembering to avoid his eyes. Stars, he’s so close I can smell the tea we just drank on his breath. “What’s wrong? Is it your feet?”

Again with my feet, my stupid, useless, disobedient, undeserving feet! 

“Talk to me,” Master says, his voice firm with command. I’m helpless to resist that tone, but my head is such a fog of emotion, I struggle to pin anything down with words.

“Master,” I croak, and he presses a gentle hand under my chin, lifting my face to his. At the warmth I find in his eyes, I crumble. “I just… I don’t deserve all of this, and I’m so grateful, Master, please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I don’t know how I’ll ever make up for all the food and medicine and magic and… and… the carpet!”

Master blinks at that. “The… carpet?”

I want to hide my face in my hands, but I don’t have permission to look away.

“Over there,” I say weakly, pointing to the bookshelf. “I spilled the chemicals and the carpet is stained and I know it’s expensive and I’m so so sorry, Master-”

Master squints at the spot. “Oh yes, I guess it is.”

I’m dumbfounded. How could he not have noticed?

“Blue…” Master sounds a little hesitant, and his face is apprehensive as he reaches up to scratch behind my ears. I lean desperately into the touch. “I wasn’t worried about the carpet that night. You were hurt.”

“B-but-” I begin, and Master presses on, hushing me.

“The carpet doesn’t matter, Blue. You do.”

He says it so matter-of-factly. All I can do is stare at him as I make a mental list of all the things I’ve ever broken or damaged, all the things that have been deemed more important than me. Dishes I’ve dropped, shoes I’ve stepped on, papers I’ve creased, clothes I’ve stained with blood or vomit- Stars, the last thing I broke before being sold was a plate. It was a plain ceramic plate, one of dozens my master kept for everyday use when there were no guests. It broke cleanly into two pieces, but my master brought his heel down on it until it was splintered. He made me kneel on the pieces while he beat me, then he pushed my face into the bloody shards and hissed in my ear-

“Stars, Blue, what did I say?”

As my vision clears, I truly expect to see my former master’s face inches from mine, twisted with rage. But the face I see is young and kind and lined with concern. 

“I… p-please forgive me, Master, I-”

Master carefully slips an arm under my knees, pulls me to his chest, and lowers us to the floor. I gather the tattered shreds of my courage and press my face against his neck, savoring the feeling of his skin on mine.

“It’s okay, Blue,” he soothes. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

_ If only that were so. _

_ __ _

_ __ _

“It’s true, the carpet doesn’t matter to me,” he continues. “But it obviously matters to you. I’m sorry I didn’t understand how much this was upsetting you. Don’t worry, I can fix it.”

My meltdown wasn’t about the carpet, but my ears perk up at the thought of removing that particular black mark on my record.

“R-really?” I quaver, and Master nods, his chin thumping gently against the top of my head.

“A little vinegar, some elbow grease, and it’ll be good as new.” Master draws back and lifts my chin to make sure I see his smile. “I promise.”

Later, Master kneels by the bookshelf and scrubs the carpet. The air is full of the heavy stink of vinegar and Master’s cheerful humming. I feel occasional twinges of guilt as I watch him work, but I also enjoy watching the muscles in his back and shoulders move under his shirt. Every now and then he looks up and smiles at me, and I’m too drowsy and contented to be worried about meeting his eyes. 

Finally my own eyes shut, and I know that this time, no nightmares will trouble my sleep.


End file.
